


Morning Report

by reyspacescavenger (gallifreyandglowclouds)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyandglowclouds/pseuds/reyspacescavenger
Summary: 30 Day OTP porn challenge with everyone’s favorite recently retired Canadian ice dancers. (I’m holding out for Beijing 2022, don’t @ me.)





	1. Before we ever had any rule of law

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is technically for Day 1, which is cuddling. It’s closer to platonic bed-sharing, TBH.
> 
> EDIT: fixed the reference to the team gold medal. I will google more next time. Glad everyone is enjoying so far!

This happens, she realizes, after performance they do at the Olympics. They perform, and then it seems like the whole world goes mad. After 2010, the furore was localized to Canada. Sochi, well, Twitter was starting to be a thing, so the whole 'aren't they super adorable?' phenomenon went on a little longer. Now this, their last Olympics - the last time she'll dance with Scott on the ice, on the world stage - it seems like all of the two billion people who have ever tuned in have some kind of opinion about their relationship, the type of minivan they should drive, and how many kids they should have. It's cute, on some level, maybe, but she finds it kind of invasive at times.

That's the problem, really. Twenty years have gone by, and Tessa, for all the brains in her head, doesn't understand what she and Scott have going on. It might have started as a partnership, two young people on skates pretending to ballroom dance, but now it's grown and twisted itself into every facet of her life. Realizing that, at the team event, that this is the second last medal she'll ever win with Scott makes the gold medal around her neck feel a bit more like a millstone than something to be celebrated. She can put on a smile for the camera, perform the part of the easy, charismatic Canadian sweetheart that she feels like she's supposed to be, especially when it's a party at Canada house, surrounded by fans and athletes in red and white.

Scott is glued to her - and she can sense his presence even when she's zoned out from a hand resting gently on her lower back, or the way he leans in to her when someone comes around to squeal in their faces. Scott can play things off with an easy grin - they trade places like this, a push and pull, picking up for one when charisma and charm are at an ebb. There have been a few interviews, in an earlier time, where Scott was so hungover that Tessa had to chatter along for the both of them. Now that he's grown up a little, he can compensate for her.

"You okay?" He whispers in her ear. It's just the two of them on their own little loveseat, and the thought of how that might look to any moron with a camera phone ties knots in her stomach. That, or it could be the way Scott's breath tickles her ear. Fifty-fifty.

"Yeah," she sighs. "Just tired." No mention of the tempest in her head, no mention of how too nice it's been sharing an apartment with him in Montreal and being back on the road, even in cramped tight spaces, and how now, the thought of being so far away from someone so close that he's practically part of her, even if it's at the end of three whole weeks.

"Sure," he mutters, and of course he knows she's full of shit. There's no sense lying to Scott now, and she has no idea why she even tries. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"That'd be awesome, thanks," she says, and he gets up to leave and is almost immediately replaced by Katelyn, who starts chattering to her about things that Tessa can't process. Scott comes back, a Diet Coke in each hand, and sits on the arm of the couch, eyebrow cocked in amusement. Tessa has about five minutes of patience - it's bad, she normally would love to ramble and gossip - but right now, it's more than she can handle.

"I'm going to grab my darling partner," Scott says, swooping in and tugging gently at Tessa's arm. She shrugs, waves a quick goodbye to Kaetlyn, and follows Scott to their dorm. They're in the same building this year, but on different floors, and when he steps out of the elevator, she takes a deep breath for what feels like the first time that evening and tries to clear her head. It's not a matter of not knowing what she wants - that has never been a problem for her - but she tends to get lost in the implementation. There's a future that she sees for herself - the house in Montreal, or maybe Toronto - a small house in a big place where she can design what's been in her head for years, and Scott can coach - wherever she goes, he's always there with her, even in her fantasies. Maybe there's a message in that, for her, that she's been ignoring and suppressing for years now.

She opens the door to her room, switches on the light, and sinks on to her bed. There's no rational reason why she should be so sad - they just won a silver medal, for crying out loud - but she can't let herself enjoy it. Stupid, stupid brain.

She changes into her pyjamas, brushes her teeth, and sits on her bed, waiting for the soft rap on the door that she knows is going to come. It’s just another sign that she’s so hopelessly lost in the mire of her feelings for Scott that she won’t even ignore his knocking even if he doesn’t show up for an hour. She opens her book, tries to read, and fails. She debates texting him and asking him where the hell he is - it’s not like he’s decided to go out and about the, there’s not much nightlife in the village - but, and she’ll never admit this to anyone as long as she lives (though Scott did as much in a TV interview once), she has a lot of trouble falling asleep when he’s not there.

Within ten minutes there’s a knock at the door. She slips off her bed, opens the door, and Scott steps in without an invitation.

To an outsider, they probably look like a married couple, the way he settles in her bed and she curls up next to him after turning off the light. To her, it’s all weirdly natural, like this is the way everything is supposed to be, her and Scott squished together in a double bed, so much so that it’s hard for her to calm down without it. She’s grateful that he doesn’t feel the need to autopsy the situation with Kaetlyn - sometimes, they just have to let things go. He’ll ask her about it later, when she’s feeling a little more centered. She won’t have a good excuse, but they’ll chat, and then everything will be normal, because that’s the way things always go with him

“What time are we on the ice tomorrow?” He asks.

“I think it’s like, 10:30?” She replies. “I’ll set an alarm for 7:30.”

“No, you will not,” he groans. “I’m still jet-lagged, for crying out loud.”

“Scott.”

“Tessa?”

She rolls her eyes, but can’t help but smile. “7:45, then. Deal?”

“Fine.” He rolls over, back to her, pretending to ignore her for a couple of seconds. He rolls back over and grins at her. “Night, Tess.”

He’s out a like a light in minutes, snoring softly. She tries to stay up, fighting sleep for a little bit longer, trying to capture the moment. 


	2. Talk about the time you were broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For day 2, kissing, I got to use one of my FAVOURITE ff tropes, which is the 'three times someone was completely unaware and one time they figured it out' thing. So, here it is - three times people told Scott to get a clue and one time he actually did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you supposed to post these consecutively? Probably, but I have midterms and an angry laptop. Thanks for your patience, folks. This chapter is still G rated, but the E rating will definitely apply for the next chapter and beyond.

**1\. Alma Moir**

Before he heads off to the Olympics, he goes home one last time. He’d never be able to live it down if he didn’t (he’d be guilt-tripped into the next millennium, and if anyone ever tries to tell him that that wouldn’t happen, then he’d politely present to them a video of his mother). Leaving Tess in Montreal is always difficult - he doesn’t know what it is about this last year or so of training and competing, but he’s felt particularly attached to her in a way that he hasn’t before. It’s possible that it’s because Tessa’s place is the very first apartment they’ve shared on an elective basis, with their own same bedroom, with a king sized bed they can both share without really even having to touch (but, if Scott’s honest, there’s probably four or five nights a week where they start on their respective sides, but wake up cuddled together). Maybe it was the decision to do one last ride, one last almost-sweep of the ice dancing circuit, that they wouldn’t take silver for an answer in their last Olympics, even to Meryl and Charlie, who are about the only two people in the world Scott doesn’t feel bad about losing to.

The drive to Ilderton is long and boring, because that’s what Southern Ontario is like, flat and boring, alternating between farmer’s fields and industrial parks. He’s grateful to get home fast - not only for the well-deserved pee break, but because he likes to be wrapped up in the family. Everyone is around that weekend - Sheri, Cara, even Danny made it home from Denmark for the occasion - and there’s enough food and companionship to keep Scott going until his next visit, which always felt too far away.

The day before he’s due to make the drive back to Montreal, he’s splayed out on the couch wondering if he’ll ever fit in to his costumes again. Alma sits across the room from him in her armchair, crocheting a small hat that he can only assume is for the offspring of one of the kids she used to coach. His phone buzzes with a text - no surprise, it’s Tessa, and he replies quickly.

“Could she not come along this weekend?” Alma asks, and Scott looks up, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry?”

“Tessa. Could she not come along this weekend?”

“Uh, no,” Scott says. The question unsettles him. He didn’t _actually ask if she wanted to come_ , but he just assumed that this was a family thing. Then again, Tessa has had a standing invitation at the Moir residence since the early 2000s, so maybe he should have brought her along.

“Huh,” Alma says 

That’s a loaded huh, the kind of huh that’s going to lead to some other uncomfortable line of questioning down the road.

Alma puts down her crochet, folds her hands in her lap, and looks straight at Scott. “I think you could stand to do a lot worse than Tessa, dear.”

Scott nearly drops his phone directly on his face. “Jesus Christ, mom -“ he says, blinking from an iPhone to the eyeball, 

“Calm down,” she says. “But come on, Scotty, you have to think about how things are going to go after this is all over.”

Sure, he’s thought about it a bit, and it mostly involves coaching in Montreal and still living in Tessa’s lovely apartment, with her. “I have three weeks to think about that, mom.”

Alma raises an eyebrow.

“Scott,” she says, folding her hands in her lap, “it’s pretty clear what you think about her. She’s a lovely woman.”

Scott’s face flushes. Yes, Tessa is one of the most wonderful people he knows, and in the blurry visions of his future, he can’t see a version of it without Tessa close by. Okay, maybe what his mom is hinting at is more than a little bit true. He'd never tell a soul, though.

"Great, awesome, thanks," he mutters. "Good talk, mom." This awkward conversation is enough to propel him off the couch off to do something else, he hasn't quite figured out what yet.

* * *

 

**Patrick Chan**

South Korea is, without a doubt, one of strangest, most wonderful places that Scott has ever been. Sochi felt foreign, but in a different way - closed off, weird - at least the hot water in his room works this time. He and Patrick decide to take a little bit of time before the opening ceremonies to wander around the athlete's village, mostly people-watching. He's never felt anything like the swelling of pride that comes from being among the world's best.

He's trying to talk himself out of going to McDonalds - between Marie-France, Patrice, and Tessa, he probably wouldn't survive the experience. He knows he's not supposed to overindulge until after the competition. But that feels like ages away, and Scott wants chicken nuggets _now._

"We're not going to do that," Patrick says, looking across at the plastic golden arches.  

"Man, really?" Scott replies, disappointed. "I thought that you'd be interested, at least. I'd have to swear you to secrecy though."

Patrick laughs, and then looks over at Scott. "Can I, uh, ask you something? And you don't have to tell me the answer, but it would help put my own curiosity to rest."

"Fire away."

"Are you ever going to do anything about the whole Tessa situation?" Patrick asks nonchalantly.

Scott almost chokes on his own spit.

"Whoa, dude, sorry," Patrick says. "You don't have to tell me. But like, come on. Are you telling me you've never once even thought about it? 

"About what?" 

"About - oh, god, you know," Patrick says.

Scott does know, but having this conversation twice in one week is messing with his brain. Also, he's going to have to look Tessa in the eye in a couple hours at practice, which will be tricky with this still in his mind.

"I mean, I obviously wouldn't know," Patrick says, shrugging, "but don't you guys talk about this sort of thing? Don't you guys share a bed, or something?"

"Uh, sometimes," Scott replies, hesitantly. "It's - it's complicated. There's a little bit of emotional repression involved in the partnership. I kind of have to put my feelings in a little box and then put the little box away, you know?"

"So you're saying you have feelings for her."

He's trapped himself, hasn't he? "Yeah," he sighs. It feels good to get things out, to just say what's been messing with his head so much over the last few months.

"I won't tell anyone," Patrick says. "But like, it's not an inconspicuous thing. People are wondering.  Just so you know."

"Thanks," Scott mutters.

* * *

 

 **3\. Kaetlyn Osmond**

Running in to Kaetlyn in the dining hall the day of the free dance is a total accident. After his swoop in to rescue Tessa - completely justified, she was exhausted and needed an escape - and keeping in mind what Patrick had told him, he's trying to keep things under wraps. And that meant avoiding Kaetlyn at all costs.

The problem is, is that the athlete's village, despite its size, has an uncanny habit of throwing you in with the person you least want to see. So when Kaetlyn plops her tray down beside Scott, it just feels like a continuation of the string of luck he's been having.

"Hey," she says.

"Hi," he responds, trying to focus on his bibimbap.

"So, you, and Tessa, eh?"

"Me and Tessa what, Kaetlyn?" 

She looks confused. "I thought you guys were, like, you know…" She picks her hands up off the table like she wants to make some kind of a gesture, but sees the look on Scott's face and just drops it. 

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Aren't you guys like, together _together_?"

Scott shakes his head.

"Huh." She says. "Uh, well, good luck today, I guess?" 

"Thanks, Kaetlyn," Scott grumbles, and picks up his tray and leaves the table. He wasn't that hungry, anyways.

* * *

 

**+1. Tessa Virtue**

"Scott."

He's so focused on this hip opening stretch that he actually almost completely ignores her. Tessa comes over and taps him on the shoulder, which makes his head whip up. 

"Anyone home?"

"Yup," he says, flipping himself over and sitting up. Tessa has one earbud out, and he can hear the Arkells blasting out of it. "How can I help?"

She smiles a little, and it's so endearing that Scott feels like he has to physically stop his heart from leaping out of his chest. It doesn't help that they're skating for gold in an hour and a half, and he's got all his standard-issue pre-competition jitters rattling around in his chest, plus the reckoning with how he's been feeling about Tessa. It's a heady mix, and he knows that he has to tamp it down before they get on the ice. 

"You have something on your mind," she says, sitting across from him, almost shoulder to shoulder. "You need to tell me what it is." 

"It's complicated, Tess -"

"I don't care," she says, deadly serious all of a sudden. "We are about to go out there, and skate for the last time, and so help me if you're not one hundred percent focused."

Scott sighs and looks up, and suddenly it's like her face is _right there,_ and if he just leaned in a little and she maybe did too they could --

Like magic and magnetism, suddenly, his lips are on hers and there are stars behind his eyes like he's never felt before. He brings a hand up to cradle her cheek, relishing the feeling of soft skin under his fingertips. It's not like they've never been this close - they're in a sport that's defined by pretend intimacy, for crying out loud - but this is real in a way that's scary and exhilarating all at once. Plus, he might be fooling himself, but Tessa is kissing him back. He's like, almost 100 percent certain.

When they pull apart, he still has his hand resting on Tessa's cheek. "That's uh, that's what's up with me."

"Oh, okay," she sighs, and leans back in to kiss him again.

Right. Well. That was not an expected turn of events, but wonderful nonetheless. He could take it further here, surrounded by stretching mats and weights, but he knows that the competition comes first, and then after, it can be all them. Just the though sends a shiver down Scott's spine, and he gently squeezes Tessa's waist where his hand is resting.

"You too, huh?" He says softly after they break apart again.

"I wasn't going to say anything until after," she sighs. "I mean like, literally after tonight."

"I didn't have a plan, not really," Scott says. "But, I guess this worked."

"Yeah, it did, in the end," Tessa says, beaming. "I love you, Scott."

"Me too, Tess," he replies. "So, so much."

She pecks him on the forehead again, and then says, "Let's go get ready, yeah? One last ride."

He takes her hand and follows her onwards.


	3. I regret the hours that were stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of the 30 day OTP challenge: first time. Please note that the E rating now officially applies as of this chapter, and all future chapters (more likely than not).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Features bonus Scott eating out Tessa because a) there isn't a prompt for it in this OTP meme, and b) I'm pretty sure that's what most people thought about when they saw that lift.

Their free dance is magical. Could it be anything else? No, thinks Tessa, because it’s them, and she firmly believes that the sky is the limit with them. They hold their final pose, her trying to keep the seductive Moulin Rouge persona, but she really wants to grin at Scott like an idiot and kiss him right in front of the packed arena. She doesn’t, and settles for a hug, a whisper of ‘holy crap, I love you so much right now’ in her ear, and the roar of the crowd.

She doesn’t need to do the math to know that they’ve come out on top, capturing their very last gold medal. That was what all of this was for, the split decision to come out of retirement, the physiotherapy and grueling on-ice practice, the reminder that her body works (or doesn’t work) a lot differently at 28 than it did eight years ago in Vancouver. On the podium, she can feel the warmth of Scott’s body behind her, and she’s reminded that he came back - he decided that he wanted to do this again - for her. She hadn’t understood it as a gesture of love then, but oh, she’s not going to forget that again.

They go on CBC immediately after they’ve changed out of their costumes and into appropriately red and white attire. Scott keeps sneaking in little touches, a ghost of his fingers across her lower back, an excuse to whisper something or other in her ear that makes her blush, and it drives her crazy. She’s running on adrenaline, nearly shaking from exhaustion and exhilaration all at once, and if she can’t get somewhere alone with Scott in the next half an hour or less, she’s going to scream.

Remarkably, she holds on for 45 minutes without losing her shit, until they’re back in her room and she has Scott back against the wall before the door has even closed and latched, her lips on his, a decade of repressed feelings spilling out. It’s aggressive and messy and so many things that she keeps carefully hidden for anyone else, but not Scott, never Scott, and given that he’s hungrily matching her intensity, keeping her glued to him and rutting against her. He breaks away from her and drops kisses on her neck. The sudden change prompts a half-whimper, half-moan from her, and he pulls away suddenly, looking spooked.

“Tess?” Scott says. His eyes are dark, his hands around her waist are trembling, and Jesus Christ, he looks so wrecked. “Are you -“

“Yeah, sorry,” she says. “Just got a little carried away. All good.”

“Good.” He smiles softly. “Sorry, this is all just so -“

“New,” she breathes. “Different. Weird.”

He nods. “But, like, in a good way.” He’s panting, and Tessa thinks that this pause is well-timed because there’s like a sixty percent her head would have exploded. The atmosphere is heady, and she knows where this is heading. She doesn’t want to make a mistake, tread too heavily when the moment doesn’t call for it. This thing with Scott is so new and small, burning like a naked flame, and it could consume them both.

He’s still holding on to her tight, like she might slip away if he loosens his grip. “Do you need some time to take off your makeup or something?”

God, she doesn’t want to think about what her carefully applied on-ice makeup looks like now. Probably fine, though, because she sets the hell out of it, but there’s a non-zero chance that there’s going to be foundation on the sheets at some stage.

“I’m good,” she says. “Do you?”

“I’m not wearing any makeup.”

“Oh, you know what I’m trying to say.”

He nods. “I don’t - I don’t want to be away from you right now.”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Same here.”

He kisses her again, with less aggression but no less feeling, hand cupping her cheek, and suddenly they’re moving backwards and the back of her legs hit the bed, and she falls backwards. Scott gracelessly flops on top of her but their lips only part momentarily, and she realizes that there won’t be a lot of finesse or grace involved tonight. It’s alright, though, they can work on that part. He rolls his hips against hers, and she can almost feel his cock through his skinny jeans. He groans and does it again, and who knew that dry humping could be quite so satisfying? The friction that she feels is exquisite, and arousal pools low in her belly. Scott tugs at the hem of her t-shirt, trying to slide it over her head, and sits back against the top of the bed to help him with it. She undoes the clasp on her bra, letting the straps fall off her shoulders - Scott's not going to have the presence of mind to do it himself, not with the way that he's mouthing and biting at every inch of exposed skin. She slips his shirt up and over his head, and just the brief disconnection jars her, and she dives back in to warm exposed skin, rubbing her thumb over one of his nipples. He groans against her skin as swirls his tongue around the rough bumps of her nipples. She can feel how slick she's getting, and feels dizzy and desperate with the degree to which she wants Scott.

She straddles him, pushing him back down on the bed, and he goes without resistance, looking up at her like she's golden and glowing. She undoes his belt buckle and slips his jeans down his legs, where he kicks them off. She palms him through his briefs and his hands tighten on her hips, biting back a moan. He lifts his hips as she pulls off his underwear and wraps a hand around his cock, stroking gently.

"Fuck, Tess," he says quietly. She wonders if it's too much for him - no lube or anything, but the way he's rocking his hips as if he just can't control it suggests otherwise.

She takes a second to get the rest of her clothes off. Scott wastes no time in gently swiping a thumb across her clit, and electricity courses through her body. She moans, and he increases the pressure and probes her wetness with another finger. It slips inside her and she clenches around it instinctively. She strokes his cock again and kisses him, and it occurs to her that they could both come this way, bring each other off so easily, but this is not what she has in mind.

"Scott," she says, stilling her hand. "Babe," she repeats, voice wavering as he fucks her with his finger. The endearment slips out so easily, and he grins at her.

"Yes?" He replies, still rubbing her clit.

"Can we - " she doesn't know how to say it without it just sounding weird. "I need - I want -"

He seems to understand what she's saying though, even though her brain couldn't formulate a complete thought right now if her life depended on it.

"Me too," he says, nodding. "I'm just not sure if I have -"

She reaches for the top drawer of her nightstand and roots around, finally finding a condom. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"Just being prepared for everything," she says, shrugging. "If it helps, you were the only person I remotely planned on sleeping with."

"I'm honored." He swipes his thumb over her clit again, and she swallows hard, reminded suddenly of the task at hand.

"How do you want it, love?" He asks. His voice is so deep and husky, it sends chills down her spine.

She's still straddling him, and yeah, that works for her. She grabs the condom and rolls it over his cock as he positions himself against the wall at the top of the bed. She straddles him, legs on either sides of his, takes a deep breath, and sinks down on his cock.

She rests her forehead against his as she does, chest to chest. His hands are wrapped around her waist, and as she sinks down, taking him in to the hilt, he digs his nails into the back, a dull pain to match the stretch and slight burn of his cock inside her. She's still for just a moment, letting her body and mind adjust.

"So gorgeous," Scott breathes, twirling a finger through her hair. "So fucking gorgeous, Tess." 

"I -" she can't figure out how to respond so she just doesn't, doesn't have the words to convey how full of love and Scott and everything that she feels. She rolls her hips experimentally, and he moans and she loves it, feeling him open up beneath her. She starts slow, but neither of them can take that pace for too long - maybe some other time they'll be able to tease each other beyond insanity, but for now it's all about dams breaking and feelings spilling out - and soon his hips are meeting hers thrust for thrust. He kisses her again and slips a finger in alongside his cock, rubbing her clit with his thumb, and she knows she won't last long like this. Her rhythm falters as she gets closer, and then suddenly it's stars behind her eyes and heat and pressure through her body and a noise that she didn't realize she had the capacity to make coming out of her mouth as she comes hard around Scott.

When her brain switches back on after a few seconds she can see the desperate look in his eyes, pupils blown and flush spreading from his cheeks to his chest.

"Tess, I need - " he says as he flips them over, and she nods as he fucks into her with abandon. She's loose as a ragdoll as he hikes one of her legs up higher, so he can thrust deeper, and every stroke he takes into her borders on oversensitive, sits on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain. Scott speeds up, then thrusts deep into her with a gasp before collapsing on her chest. The exhaustion of the day sets in just then, and even though they're both sweaty and covered in bodily fluids she can't bear to ask him to get up. She lazily wraps her arms around his shoulders as he breathes into her neck. She can feel his heart racing, and she just wants to put a bubble around this moment and never leave.

"I'm going to get cleaned up," he says, rolling off of her. "I'll bring you a washcloth." He slips off the bed, stumbling slightly, and disappears into the washroom. She snuggles up under the duvet, missing the warmth of Scott's body. He's back in not too long, and she cleans herself up, then cuddles against him as he spoons himself behind her.

They're both quiet for a few minutes, and she thinks Scott might have fallen asleep, and it's the first time that doubt has crept into her mind since earlier that afternoon when Scott had kissed her.

"Hey," she says quietly, squeezing the hand that rests near her belly button. "Is everything going to be okay?"

"Yeah," he says from behind her. "Tess, I love you. We'll talk in the morning. And also, I love you. Like, totally fucking crazy."

She smiles, feeling slightly more settled. "I love you too, Scott." 

* * *

Tessa figures they'll talk in the morning - and they do, once they've fucked once more, more languidly than the last time. It's so tricky to agree on set parameters for their relationship because their lives are already so tangled up, but it boils down to keeping it under wraps for the rest of the Games, and that Scott will keep living at Tessa's place in Montreal. She has to keep reminding herself that everything will be fine - she's not used to the serious Scott that reassures her and strokes her hair, but she likes it, that she has her own private version of his public persona.

They go down to the dining hall, Scott having arranged to meet Patrick for lunch. They don't hold hands or anything explicitly romantic, but Patrick takes one look at them, raises his eyebrow, and says, "Anyone got anything to say or are we just going to pretend that nothing happened?"

Scott and Patrick go to the woman's hockey final that evening. Tessa didn't make an effort to get tickets in time, so she doesn't join them, which gives her the unique joy of watching Scott all over Buzzfeed, two beers in, yelling at the refs. Patrick looks like he wants the earth to swallow him, and Tessa can't help but laugh.

It's slightly less funny when Patrick drops a drunken Scott off at her room a few hours later.  She manhandles him into pyjamas and then bed, and snuggles up next to him.

"Tess," he says, so earnestly that it's heartbreaking, "I am fucked up right now."

"Yes," she says. "I can tell. We have practice at 10:30 tomorrow."

"Oh," he replies. "Shit."

There's a pause, and then he says, "Tess, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead, Scott."

"Uh, when I'm not as drunk, and maybe not hungover either, can I eat you out?"

What a weird thing to ask permission to do, Tessa thinks, but the thought of makes her cheeks flush with a pleasant warmth. "Yeah. Sure. That works for me."

"But when I'm not… like this."

"Definitely, Scott. Time to go to bed." She kisses him on the forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too, Tess."

* * *

She goes alone to practice the next day - not really a surprise, because Scott's response to her gentle efforts to wake him up is a 'fuck off' muttered into the pillow. Tessa knows enough not to take it personally, and tucks the duvet over his head, and leaves him to it. Patch and Marie understand why she's coming alone, even if they're not necessarily happy about it. Ice dance isn't a solo sport though, so she doesn't make a lot of progress on _Long Time Running,_ but Scott will feel better by tomorrow, so they'll be able to run through it then.

She stops at McDonalds and brings him back some a 20-pack of chicken nuggets- she isn't sure if they actually help with hangovers, but he's been craving them since they got to Pyeongchang, so at least he can be happy.

He's sitting up in bed when she gets back. "You didn’t," he says, when she produces the McDonalds bag.

"We do crazy things for the people we love," she says, handing him the greasy bag. "But come on, you have to share one with me."

"Is that what this is about?" He asks. "Being able to steal my chicken nuggets for all eternity?"

"Only if I get them for you," she says, giving him a quick peck on the forehead as he tucks into his lunch. He does offer her a few willingly, though.

He eats in silence, and then when he's done, greasy remains of his McDonald's meal thrown in the wastebasket beside Tessa's bed, he asks, "Did I… say anything weird last night?"

She immediately thinks back to what he'd asked her. "Uh, no, not really."

"I didn't ask you if I could eat you out, or something like that?"

She audibly gulps, and figures there's no sense lying to him now. "Uh, yeah. You did say that."

"Shit," he says, and her heart sinks, because that had actually been something that she was kind of looking forward to. "Sorry, that must have been… odd."

"No, it was fine," she says, looking over at him. "Nothing wrong with it."

He pauses, and suddenly she's hyperaware of the blood rushing in her ears and her heart pounding. "Okay, I'm glad, because I was being serious."

"Good," she replies. "I would have held you to it."

"I really, really want to do it."

"Like, right now?" Tessa asks. Their faces are so close together now that she can lean in and kiss him gently, and she does. When they break apart, Scott nods.

"If you'd like to. I mean, we don't have to, but like -"

"I get the feeling this is something you've been thinking about," she says.

He nods, and kisses her again. He's nervous, and it's so endearing to her she can hardly stand it.

"Well, then," she says, "what are you waiting for?"

"Fuck," he breathes, as she slips her t-shirt over her head. He places a hand gently, splayed over her midsection, and kisses her neck. He breaks off the kiss to lift her jog bra up and over her head, then takes one of her nipples in his mouth while gently pinching and pulling the other one. Their previous couplings were so frantic, so focused on hidden feelings and a mutual desire for pleasure they haven't been able to take much time to explore each other's bodies, and Scott appears to be making up for lost time. He takes his time moving down her body, pressing his lips against every inch of soft skin. He leaves a little mark just above the curve of her hip, and her breath catches in her throat and her back arches. He smiles up at her as he kneels just off the side of the bed and slides her leggings and underwear off. It hits her then that she's completely naked and he's still got his pyjamas on, which makes her feel so open and vulnerable under him.

"Tess," he breathes, and she gets her first good look at him, eyes dark and lips shiny and wet, "are you good?"

"Yeah," she says. She's quivering, shaking almost, with anticipation, and from the first gentle kiss to her inner thigh she knows he's going to take it slow, draw her out until she can't even beg any more. He kisses and licks along the crease of her inner thigh, leaving little marks that might sting just slightly when she's in costume, and she closes her eyes and tries to relax into it.

He slides a finger inside of her, and she's so wet already from anticipation pure anticipation, and it slides in easily. It's not enough - she can take more, he knows and she knows, but he's drawing out that slow burn growing low in her belly, and he won't stop until it consumes her completely. He explores the lips with his tongue, learning every crease, but studiously avoiding her clit. It's killing her, the too-much-not-enough push and pull of Scott with his tongue on her, and she instinctively cups her breast with one of her hands, rubbing her index finger over her hardened nipple.

He gently presses his thumb on her clit, not even moving, but the simple motion is enough to make her hips buck. She gasps, looks up at ceiling and back at Scott, whose eyes are so, so dark.

"Tess," he growls, breathing heavy, "god, you're so beautiful."

He slips another finger inside of her and she clenches around then. He groans where his tongue is on her clit, giving her a little bit more than before, but not enough to push her over the edge, so she's stuck in this haze, waves of pleasure riding over her as Scott teases her clit but keeps licking down to closer to where his finger is, then back to giving her clit attention. She bites her lip and cards her fingers through his hair, probably pulling a little too hard, but given that he gives her more, more, more when she does, he's probably fine with it.

Her eyes are clenched shut, back arching off the bed and hips rocking.. She can't take the teasing anymore, she's pretty sure she'll die if she doesn't get to come soon.   
"Please, Scott," she gasps, feeling like she almost can't get enough air in, "Just. Just don't tease, god, please-"

He obliges her, fucking her fast with his fingers and lavishing attention on her clit with his tongue. She's not sure how long it is before she comes with a drawn out moan - it could have been seconds or hours, but time is something that stays far outside this room. He crawls back on the bed  and she can feel the soft flannel of his pyjama pants on her bare legs. He kisses her, cupping her cheek gently, and she can still taste herself on his lips and tongue. She can feel his cock against her sex, hard and throbbing, and she can't describe the exhilaration of knowing that getting her off has him this far gone.

He ruts against her, like he can't control the motion of his hips, and they both moan in concert, and the fabric feels almost too rough on her.

"Scott," she breathes, meeting his gaze. He looks so desperate, but he's so restrained, waiting for her to ask. She can tell that he's straining - his whole body is shaking above her, but god, to feel him there, thick and hard and hot, is too much for her even now. "I need - I need you to fuck me."

"Tess -"

" _Now._ "

He nods, and wastes no time in getting his pyjamas off, and he reaches towards her nightstand, but she's too desperate for good decisions right now, and she swats his hand away.

"Tess," he says, a note of caution in his voice.

"I'm on the pill, it's fine if you're okay," she says, a frustrated edge in her voice. "Please, just _please."_

He nods and settles between her legs, guiding his cock inside her and covering his body with hers. She tries to meet his thrusts by rolling her hips against him, but she's so strung out and oversensitive that she doesn't have a lot of success. She comes again, teasing her own clit, and Scott's thrusts speed up and then he pushes himself inside her to the hilt as he groans and comes deep inside her, head dropping against her shoulder. He doesn't move - probably can't move, his body heavy on top of her. She loves the pressure though, loves the warmth surrounding her, inside and out, so she's in no hurry to change anything.

After some time - and for all she knows the world has ended outside but hasn't touched them yet, Scott disappears, and comes back with a cloth. He cleans them both off tenderly, and then curls up into bed beside Tessa, chest to chest.

"Thank you," she breathes.

He says nothing, just strokes her hair until they both drift off to sleep.


	4. Then you came along and all that changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: masturbation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How had I managed to completely overlook 'My heart's always yours' in the Arkell's discography for a title for this fic? I apologize.

After the post-Olympics whirlwind, Scott goes to Denmark to visit Danny. It had been a preplanned trip - Tessa wasn't not invited on purpose, it's just that he didn't think to book a contingency plane ticket in case they ended up sealing the deal. She sends him off at the Montreal airport and feels a small twinge of regret that he's screwing off for a week so early in their relationship. Of course, the week after, they're heading back to Ilderton for the first time as a couple, so that will be adequately intense for both of them, Scott realizes somewhere over the mid-Atlantic with exactly zero sleep. It might work then, to have a little bit of space and perspective going in to that.

He'd never taken the time to visit Danny before, and even after less than one jet-lagged day wandering around Copenhagen, he's already fallen in love, and is mentally mapping where he'll take Tessa when they come back together. Danny lives in Elsinore, outside the city, and he's busy with coaching, which means that Scott is left up to his own devices most of the time, but he sets Scott up with a pass that lets him use the local transport and get in to most attractions. From the top of a turret at Hamlet's castle, he takes a picture looking back over the rooftops of Elsinore and sends it to Tessa, simply captioned, I wish you were here.

She replies shortly after with a video of the snow-rain mix that's pelting Montreal. Bet you don't miss this ;). Can't wait to have you back at home. 

Copenhagen is known as the City of Spires, and he climbs whatever he can find - he even makes his way up a church spire where the steps go outside. It's a blustery, slightly snowy day in Copenhagen, and his fingers feel like they're about to fall off this high up off the ground. He manages to take another picture, even though his fingers feel like they're about to fall off from the high winds, and as soon as he gets down, he takes refuge in a café with a pastry and a cup of coffee. He spots another couple in the café, wrapped up in conversation with each other, and he misses Tessa so much in that moment it's like a physical punch to the gut.

He opens up his phone and texts her. It's only about two in the afternoon in Copenhagen, so she should be awake back in Montreal.

_Hey. Do you want to Skype? Has to be a voice call because wifi is bad in café_

He waits for a couple minutes before his phone buzzes with another text. _Yeah, I'd love to_

His phone rings with a Skype call not thirty seconds later. He plugs in his headphones, and accepts the call.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey yourself," she replies, voice crackly over the spotty internet connection. "It's so good to hear your voice."

God, he agrees, and just thinking about her snuggled up on a blanket on the couch, cradling her phone and laptop and at least three other things that she's working on all at once makes him smile a little sadly and miss him even more. "Yeah, I miss you like crazy."

"What's your favourite thing that you've seen so far?" She asks.

"Oh, I think probably Christiansborg," he says. "They've got all these cool tapestries in there. Did I send you those photos yet?"

"No, I don't think so," Tessa pauses, then sighs. "I wish I was there with you."

"Yeah, me too." Actually, Scott thinks, I would like nothing more than that. "We're going to come back here some day, though. Together. I'm already making a list of all the things I want to show you." The word honeymoon almost slips out of his mouth, but he doesn't want to take things too fast and accidentally screw everything up.

"Awesome," she says. 

"How are things back at home?"

"Alright," she sighs. "Just trying to get back in to the grind. My mom is so excited for next weekend, it's a bit ridiculous."

"Ah, yes, the great return," Scott scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"It's going to be crazy." 

"Oh, I know."

"But," Tessa says, "we'll be together. Even if we have to share my childhood bedroom."

"Can't wait to see all the old N'Sync posters, Tess."

She laughs. "I think my parents have probably converted it to something much tamer now."

They chat about topics both great and small - Tessa's potential collaboration on a fashion line with Reitmans, the gossip from Gadbois - until Scott figures that he's overstaying the welcome that one coffee and a danish earns him.

"Love, I'm going to go now," he says.

He hears her sigh, but it sounds like a rush of static. "I love you Scott. Travel safe. I'll be at the airport to get you."

"Love you too, Tess. Have a wonderful day." He ends the Skype call, puts his phone down on the table, and runs his hands through his hair. Three more days before he heads home, he thinks. He can do three more days.

\---------

He and Danny go out for a nice dinner with Danny's new girlfriend that night back in Elsinore. Something about the whole scene makes Scott feel weirdly morose, so he skips the post-dinner glass of wine back at Danny's place and instead goes up for a shower. He's also taken something like 22,000 steps that day, because Copenhagen is so brilliantly walkable, so he isn't one hundred percent lying when he says that he's tired.

The hot water beats against his back, and he tries his best to clear his head, except his brain somehow seems to settle on that fucking SportsNet photoshoot, because of all the bits and bytes of information in his brain, that's the one that's been deemed incredibly important right here and now. 

His hand drifts to his cock almost unbidden, and he closes his eyes and exhales deeply, fingers wrapping around his shaft. He starts stroking, grip gentle, as he thinks about Tessa in a crop top and short shorts, and then naked under him, making obscene little noises that make his breath catch in his throat as he thumbs over one of her nipples and kisses her neck, hair splayed and messy over the pillow. His brain then switches to the image of her sinking down on his cock and rolling her hips, his fingers pressing in to soft ivory skin and relishing in the warmth that surrounds him - just the idea that there's an unrestrained and wild Tessa that only he gets to see.

By now his grip has tightened and his hand is moving faster over his cock, and it's probably rude of him to use this much water, or something, but he feels trapped in his desires, too far gone to stop now. The coil of pleasure in his belly is tightening, sending little sparks through his body. Now he thinks of running his fingers through her hair when they're cuddling on the couch, or the soft smell of her that he can never get enough of whenever he buries his face in her neck and kisses the skin over her collarbone. It's cooking together, sharing a bed where the sheets smell like her, and getting to wake up beside her in his arms every day for the rest of his life. It's that thought - that grand promise of forever, the excitement that comes with being able to commit himself to her fully, that pushes him over the edge hard and has him spilling all over his hand. He braces himself against the wall while he catches his breath, shower steam opening his lungs, and has to force himself to clean up before climbing out of the shower and falling into bed, boneless and satiated.

Two more sleeps after this one, he thinks, considering the open space in the queen sized bed in Danny's dressing room. Two more sleeps and I'll be home. 

* * *

 

 Tessa's conversation with Scott underscored two truths that she had been desperately trying to avoid since before he went to Denmark. The first was that she missed him so terribly and desperately that it was borderline sad. The second was, of course, that she was bored, and horny as hell.

The year of retirement had convinced her that her post-skating success would be predicated on how well she could keep herself busy. And that she did - finishing her undergrad, trying her best to reach out and make connections in the fashion world, to some success, one that she didn't doubt was more than a little due to her already-famous name. But now, she had almost run out of things to do. She'd made the bed and done laundry, but had avoided changing the sheets, even though they were probably due for a wash, because she could still smell the traces of Scott and she didn't want to wash that away until it was absolutely necessary. The apartment was spotless; she'd even gone so far as to accept an invitation from Patch to come back to Gadbois and help a few of the juniors with some lifts they were working on. But now, in the quiet after she'd hung up the phone, she just had the silence of the apartment to cope with, and her own tangled feelings of loneliness and desperation.

Of course, there was a solution to all of this, one that she hadn't considered yet, that resided in the bottom drawer of her dresser, which mostly served to hide Christmas presents and the euphemistically titled 'personal massager' that she had purchased on Amazon once during a tipsy shopping spree with Meryl a few years back. It was the only item she hadn't returned when the package turned up on her doorstep, and for good reason. She had joked once that it could almost replace a boyfriend, and (at the time) she hadn't been kidding, and then caught the way Scott's ears turned red, and made exactly nothing of it at the time.

She sighs, gets off the couch, and walks in to her - their, really - bedroom. She retrieves it from its hiding place, makes sure it has some charge in it, then strips out of her pyjamas and settles herself on the pillows at the top of the bed. She closes her eyes and starts the mental fantasy reel as she swipes her thumb over her clit. She has no shortage of material from over the past few weeks, because Scott is, in a word, generous, and she can picture him settled between her legs, breath hot against the sensitive skin. The anticipation has her slick and she slides two fingers inside of herself - this isn't a moment where she has the patience or will to tease herself and get her off slowly. That's for Scott when he comes home. This is just for her so that she can take the edge off a little.

She fucks herself with her fingers and rubs her clit, biting her lip and rocking her hips as she gets herself more excited, and she can get herself close like this but can't usually take herself over the edge, and she clicks on the massager and sets it against her clit. This will be quick and dirty, she knows she won't be able to hold on for longer when she does this, but it's easily the best couple of minutes she'll have today. She tries to picture Scott on top of her, warm skin on skin as she traces her fingers across her belly, and she comes, moaning loudly enough that she wonders if someone else might hear, and imagines Scott there with her, panting and rutting in to her as he tries to finish himself off. She relaxes back against the pillows and closes her eyes for a second, lets her heart rate return to normal and her muscles settle in to the post-orgasm relaxation that she'd become so familiar with over the last few weeks.

She cleans off the massager and puts it back in its place, then changes her mind, and plugs it in to charge. It could be a long few days before Scott gets back, she reasons. But oh, she'll be ready for him when he does.


	5. I'll be here, I'll be waiting for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: blowjob

Tessa is the absolute picture of restraint at the airport. Scott's eyes zoom in on her as he comes out to the arrival section of Trudeau airport. She gives him a hug that could be interpreted as friendly. Anywhere with camera phones around - and there are clearly people who recognize them - they're very much the friendly, easygoing pair that the public perceives them to be. He steals a quick kiss in the parking lot, crowing Tessa up against her Golf.

"Not now," she breathes.

Scott smiles ruefully, nods, and steps back. She's so right, because some inopportunely timed photo could take things public way faster than they intend to. So even in the car, through the whole half-hour ride home, he keeps his hands folded in his lap and talks to her about pastries and church spires.

The minute the door of the apartment closes behind them, Scott has her up against the wall, kissing her with wild abandon. He feels like he has to remind himself of the taste and feel of her, the exact curve of her hip and how well his hand fits on it, the pitch of the happy sigh she makes into his mouth as he deepens the kiss. It's all the little things - the perfect ordering of coats and shoes in the vestibule - she must have cleaned while he was away, which means that she was at loose ends as much as he was while he was gone. The soft light coming through the windows, the throw resting askance on the couch, and most importantly the woman he gets to have and hold - it's all part of home for him.

He rests his forehead against hers when they break apart. "Hey," he whispers.

"Hey."

He wants to spend the next while rediscovering her body with his tongue, except that he didn't sleep the night before coming home, nor on the plane, so he's so tired he feels it deep in his bones.

"I need to have a nap before I can think about anything else," he says.

"Yeah, totally," she replies, smiling back at him. "Mind if I join you?"

"Please do, I'd love that."

It's nice to her beside him in bed, curled up against his chest. He traces a bit of skin where her t-shirt hikes up, and rests his hand there as he falls asleep.

She wakes him up a couple hours later. "I know you're tired," she says, face just inches away from his. "But you won't sleep at all tonight if you sleep for too long now."

"Fine," he says, and kisses her again. It all starts rather innocently, just a gentle hello, but almost before Scott knows it, Tessa's straddling him and grinding her hips down, kissing him with abandon, and Scott feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. 

She sits back, his legs between hers, and bites her lips. Her face is flushed red, hair tousled, and Scott thinks she's never looked more sexy.

"Listen, we don't have to do this right now," she says, panting, "but I was wondering if you'd let me suck you off."

"Fuck, yes," Scott breathes, and he worries that he sounds almost too keen, but then again, she literally just asked.

"Good," she says, unbuckling his belt. "Been thinking about it. When you were away."

"Yeah?" he says, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She nods, and it's sexier than it has any right to be, and leans into him as he shimmies up against the pillows. She kisses him again as he kicks his jeans off, and he wonders what it'll taste like with him on her lips. The thought has him shift a little, a frisson of pleasure running down his spine as she palms his cock through his briefs. He yields to her completely - usually, sex between them is a game of equals, but now, he's happy to sink back into the pillows and let Tessa have her way. She breaks apart the kiss, their lips still hovering just inches apart, and she drops kisses along the line of dark hair that runs down from Scott's belly button. He almost can't bear to look as she tucks her thumbs in the elastic of his briefs and pulls them off. He's half hard already, and the minute he feels her warm breath against his cock he squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his teeth.

She licks up the underside of his cock before taking the head in her mouth, and he makes an ungodly noise when she does. She sinks down a little lower on his cock, all tight wet heat that threatens to drive him mad. He steals a glance down at her and she looks back at him, eyebrows fluttering over gorgeous green eyes.

"Christ, Tess," he mutters. He's never going to be able to forget that for approximately as long as he lives.

She wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and tries to move her hand up and down in concert with her mouth. She can't quite get the rhythm right, but it doesn't matter at all to Scott - the stimulation, the overstimulation, even, of having Tessa back near him after what feels like forever keeps pushing him closer and closer to the precipice. He threads his fingers through her hair, tries not to pull, but almost can't stop his grip from tightening just slightly as he feels her tongue press against the sensitive spot under the underside of his cock. He looks down at her again, laser focused, and - god. It's more than he can be reasonably expected to handle.

"Tess," he growls, " 'm close."

She nods, but redoubles her efforts, and someday, she might tease and kiss and sneak him over the edge, but today is not that day, and he's grateful for it. He feels the pleasure pool in his belly, the dam about to break, and Tessa pulls off his cock, strokes him one two three times, and he's coming all over himself and her hand. She slows her movements and he feels like he can get some air back in to his lungs.

She slips off the bed and into their bathroom, and comes back with a warm cloth to clean him off. It's then that he realizes that she still has all her clothes on.

"Fuck, Tess, c'mere," he groans, and as soon as he can reach her as she climbs on top of  he slides her leggings and underwear down her legs, and she kicks them off. He thumbs her clit and slips two fingers inside her, and she is so, so wet that he almost can't believe it.

"God," he mutters, curling his fingers inside of her and pressing down on her clit. She moans.

It's probably not his strongest effort, but he does what he can seeing as he won't be able to get hard again. She comes too, clenching around his fingers and digging her nails into his back, so he feels a little better about it.

He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to shift the warm weight of her body away from his for one second. He drops a kiss on her shoulder and says, "God, I missed you."

"Missed you too," she mutters happily.


	6. Push and pull like a magnet too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: clothed getting off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the excessive hiatus, but school is a thing. I'll try to not to leave it this long again. Also, I got to see the Moulin Rouge routine live, and I'm pretty sure I'm no longer living, which is cool. So. this is really just my desiccated husk writing this.

They have five minutes.

They have five minutes until they're going on the ice, in front of nearly twenty thousand people, and Tessa is currently in the red dress that she knows drives him so crazy, and she's sitting in his lap in his dressing room, slowly grinding her hips into his. Even the lazy rhythm drives him so wild, and he's gasping (quietly) and kissing the bare skin on her neck that he can access, noting the way her hips stutter as he bites down just a little.

"You fuck up my makeup," she says, "and I swear to god, I will end you."

"Yeah? You're already pretty close, T," he manages with some difficulty. "Come on, do your worst."

She cuts him off them, probably doesn't like that he gets a little too mouthy sometimes, and grinds down into his lap and kisses him hard. So much for lipstick and finesse, but Scott is so hard right now that none of that matters.

"Well," she says, pulling back and resting her forehead against his, "do you think we can go out there now?"

Scott blanches. "Jesus, Tess, I'm not going out there in stretchy fucking pants like… this." Admittedly, this pre-performance ritual has become a habit since Halifax, and it's probably not ideal. This is the first time they've taken it quite this far. Everything starts as just a quick peck, but he has a special inability to apply rational thought anywhere Tessa is concerned. Patrick is the only one who knows even a little bit that this is what happens behind closed doors with them, and Scott gets knowing looks every time they emerge, his hair rumpled and her cheeks a little redder than blush could make them.

"But I know you," she murmurs, "you dance better like this."

 _Fuck._ She's probably right, because the one instinct that has seemed to serve him well over the last twenty-odd years _is trust Tessa_. 

They probably only have like, ninety seconds before the retrospective starts anyways. She climbs off him, each lace up their skates, and they slip out into the hallway. Everyone else is on the ice for a group number, so at least no one notices their magical reappearance together. They stand in the tunnel, hand in hand, and wait for everyone to file back in, and then their cue to start.

As they skate on to the darkened rink, he leans in and whispers in her ear, "Turnabout is fair play, you know."

She smiles, for just a moment, before she puts her game face on. 


	7. Boy, let's not talk too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: dressed/naked (half-dressed)

Teasing Scott - bringing him just close enough to the edge that he's amped up and frantic - is kind of like poking a bear. Well, Tessa thinks, that's probably not the perfect metaphor, because bears don't really storm off or pin her against the wall of her hotel room and kiss her until she can barely breathe after having been poked. It's probably close enough, though.

After the post-show party and formalities that seem to happen every night - it's great having someone like Elvis, who feels like a real adult in a way that Tessa just doesn't after having spent so much time competing, with real money, who can at least spring for nice booze. She doesn't have that much to drink - they've got another show tomorrow in Hamilton, and the bus leaves early, so there's little leeway for hangovers, but she'll take one glass of wine when she can. It's a little desperately stereotypical, her on one side of the room chatting with Meghan, and Scott in the corner with Eric and Patrick. He keeps shooting her looks that she can't decipher exactly, but his eyes are dark, and that, she can definitely decipher without help.

Sometime around midnight, the gathering disperses, and then Scott is on her, one hand resting on her lower back as they make their way to the elevator. They play at secrecy when the public is watching, but she knows that no one in the room is going to say anything at all, just Meghan shooting her a knowing look as Scott slips in her room after her. As Tessa had predicted, he's on her in a flash as soon as the door closes - no warm up or formalities, just his lips on hers, pushing their bodies together. She can smell his sweat and his deodorant, a heady mix (for her, at least) that makes her knees weak. 

He kisses her chin, then down her neck, leaving little bite marks where her white v-neck leaves skin exposed, then hooks his fingers in the waistband of her leggings and panties and pulls them both down.

She doesn't have time to step out of her clothes, because Scott's thumb is on her clit and  his index finger is probing the wetness in her sex, teasing her, touching her oh-so-gently. _Fuck. Turnabout is fair play._ He'd probably been planning this since they got off the ice. She lets her head drop back against the wall with a thunk, and exhales sharply. The sight of Scott on his knees in front of her is too much, eyes dark and lips shiny.

"Tess," he growls, "look at me."

She opens her eyes, tries to inhale, and looks down at Scott. His stare is focused and sharp, keeping up the slow pressure on her clit.

"You like being teased like that?" He asks. She nods. This is what she gets for trying to push him too far.

"Good," he breathes. He puts his mouth on her clit and she has to clap a hand over her mouth to contain an embarrassingly loud moan. He's got two fingers inside her now, with one hand bracing her against the wall, stopping her hips from moving. He's fully in control, and heat flushes down her body as she grits her teeth.

She's so close - her legs are shaking and the heat in her belly threatens to burst - and then Scott, goddamned Scott, the person who she trusts instinctively to hold her upside down on the ice and to hold her when her shins hurt so much she can barely walk - pulls back, smiles up at her, and raises his eyebrows.

"Well, I guess that's that," he says. "I'll see you in the morning, Tess." He pulls back and stands up, smiling at her, not moving.

"Asshole."

"Look who's talking."

She opens her eyes, and lo and behold, he's still standing in front of her, arms crossed and a shit-eating grin on his face.

"I know you don't want to go anywhere," she says, draping her arms over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he says, (and she's guessing), too far gone to keep up his little game.

"C'mere," she says, and pulls him in, kissing him and tasting herself on his lips. He hooks his hands under her bum and lifts her up, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and he places her down on the bed.

He shimmies his sweatpants and briefs down, and god, he's so hard, she knows that he gets crazy like this when he eats her out, and then he's lined up with her and pushing into her sex, and she rolls her hips up against him, egging him on.

He kisses her, and she doesn't want his lips ever to leave hers. They're both still half-clothed, but it's a testament to how little resistance they have when faced with each other. He fucks into her hard as she gets a hand on her clit, and quickly, too quickly, she comes hard around him, and then he gasps into her mouth and comes too, and then they're lying, legs still tangled, breathing heavy.

"So," she says, a little weakly, "same time again tomorrow?"

Scott laughs. "Yeah, maybe not."

"Really? I think this worked out just fine for everyone."

"Uh," he mutters, "you're not going to be sending me back out on the ice with a semi tomorrow, because then you'll be sleeping alone."

The way he's smiling at her, she knows that will never happen, but she'll let him think that it is. 


	8. Got me looking like hell but it feels like heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Skype sex. Title from 'I Don't Sleep' by Emma LaMontagne.

The Vancouver-Paris time difference is a real bitch, Scott thinks. Tessa's trip to France had been planned ages ago - she loves France, and if she had to pretend that the move to Montreal hadn't been partially inspired by a gradual move eastward, she'd by lying.

(He had asked her once why not move to Halifax, to which she'd opined that she found the Maritimes a little bit boring. Best not to mention that on national television, he'd said to her, laughing a little, and she had just rolled her eyes and kissed him again.)

He was in Vancouver a little by accident - the stated idea behind his visit was that he was going to help Patrick set up the skating academy, but in practice, it was more of a social visit, a time to blow off some steam now that they were both retired and ready to move on to different things in life. The blessed transition from being a competitive figure skater to a coach.

"See," Scott says, taking a sip of his beer, "I kind of envy Tessa, because she's got all this stuff going on. I can just make a slight variation on the skating stuff, you know?"

Patrick shrugs. "Not too late to go back to school."

Scott shakes his head. "I can't even think of that right now."

The two of them spend a lot of time in the AirBnb that Patrick has rented for the duration of his stay - he can't actually afford to live in Vancouver yet, but he and Elizabeth are looking for places. 

"You know," Patrick says, putting his feet up on the couch, "it's all a process. Everything will come in time. At least, that's what I'm telling myself."

The one thing that hasn't lessened since coming to Vancouver, though, is missing Tessa like crazy. It's back to his short trip to Denmark all over again, and this is something they're going to have to bring up in counselling if he can't get over it. He had dropped her off at the airport - even though they're both still loath to use the 'boy/girlfriend' words, that's the kind of shit they do for each other. They share an apartment. He's not seeing anyone else - hasn't had a girlfriend since they agreed to come back to competition, and she isn't either. For all intents and purposes, they're dating, and Scott likes it that way. It feels like they've just traded one type of codependency for another, which probably isn't healthy, strictly speaking, but he doesn't care if he can have Tessa curled up beside him when he wakes up in the morning.

Around nine that night, he and Patrick turns in, because that's what they do now, go to bed early, but Scott can't sleep, so he flips on his computer. Skype launches automatically, and he doesn't actually notice that he'd opened it until a call from Tessa comes in. He picks it up, and then quickly grabs his headphones off the nightstand.

"Hey," he breathes. "It's good to see you."

"You too, stranger," she says, with a smile. The sunrise is streaming in through the curtains of her hotel room.

"How's France?"

"Awesome," she says. She launches into an recounting of the last few days, and Scott can't help but smile at how animated she is, warmth filling him, even if he misses the exact contours of the story.

"You ever coming back?" He asks.

"Obviously," she says. "You're not here."

Something about the ease of the statement knocks the wind out of Scott, and for a second, he feels like he can barely breathe. "Hopefully next time, we'll go together."

"If I'm being honest, I have the whole thing planned out." She smiles nervously.

Open declarations of love are something they have both shied away from - Scott knows he loves her, and he's pretty sure it's reciprocal, but saying it out loud, or talking about the future, is something totally different that Scott is not quite used to. But, fuck it.

"Tess, I love you," he says, all coming out in a rush. "I miss you like fucking crazy."

Either the call freezes, or she's too shocked to respond. Her face curls into a smile, eyes soft, and she answers, "I love you too, and I miss you too. Are you and Patrick having a good time?"

Scott nods. "Yeah, we're relaxing. Nothing is getting done, as I'm sure you'll be shocked to hear."

She laughs, and Jesus, he can't handle that laugh, and a complicated knot of thoughts about self-restraint and thin walls tumble through his head as he palms himself through his pyjama pants.

"Scott," she says, "something to say?"

He shakes his head, a little embarrassed that he turns into a horny teenager after being away from Tessa for a little while. "I don't think we can do this now."

"Says who?"

"Says the fact that Patrick is sleeping in the next room, and I do not need to be chirped about this tomorrow."

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Live on the edge, Moir. Just be quiet."

He is so, so bad at that, which she knows, and he figures she might be doing this on purpose.

"Fine," he says, as quiet as he can manage. "But you're doing all the talking."

She smirks as he shimmies his pants down and off. He doesn't know what she can see as he settles himself against the pillows, legs spread open, but he catches the sight of her pinching a nipple through her pyjama top, and he realizes he might not be able to look for much longer.

"I think about you all the damn time," she breathes, and she slips out of her top. Scott lets out a sharp exhale, because even over a shitty connection (honestly, Rogers should be ashamed of itself, just for this), he can make out her stunning physique. "So many dark, handsome, French men, and all I can think about is you."

Scott laughs a little.

"It's not - the bed feels too empty without you," she says, panting more now, and he can tell that she's touching herself, he can picture the way she likes it, no teasing, hard on her clit. "Can't reach over and kiss your shoulder, can't smell you, it drives me fucking crazy."

"Tess," he whines, hopefully quiet enough that only she can hear him. His hand speeds up on his cock, and pre-cum spills out the top, making his fingers sticky.

"Need you to fuck me," she says, voice scarcely above a whisper, but the words clear as a bell in Scott's brain. "Want to ride you, sit in your lap, control it. Make you wait for it."

Scott can barely breathe. All he can see in his mind's eye is Tessa, glorious and naked, straddling him and all around him, on his cock, kissing his lips, the taste and sight and smell overwhelming him. There might be a moment where sex with her doesn't feel like massive sensory overload, but that probably won't be for a while.

"Slow down," she says, and she must be able to tell how close he is, and without the slightest hesitation he stills his hand. The heat in his belly is so close to breaking, but he'll stop on her command. "What would you do?"

"I'd -" and he can't remember his voice sounding this wrecked, this raspy, but he knows that she needs it to get off sometimes. "I'd touch you. I wouldn't be able to help myself." Through half lidded eyes he can see her grin on his laptop screen. He sighs. "I'd bring you off first. Touch your clit, slip a finger inside you along with my cock. Make you suck on it, taste yourself, before letting you come."

"God, Scott-"

"Just stretch you right out," he grunts, his hand still slowly stroking his cock. "Then I'd thumb your clit, not let you move, I'd hold you right there, you'd just have to take it until you came around my cock." He is so far past the point of controlling himself now it's obscene.

He hears a high pitched whine through his headphones, the sound tinny, and he knows that she just came, clenching around her own fingers. He speeds up his own hand, knowing that he doesn't have to wait any more, trying to bring himself off.

"Then I'd put you on your back," he gasps. "Fuck you into the goddamn mattress. Come - god - come so hard inside you, make you all messy." He comes all over his hands now, grunting. He can hear her panting through his headphones. He didn't know that he was capable of that, being able to talk so dirty to someone her periodically referred to as 'kiddo' in interviews. But god, he needed to make that real so badly.

"So," she says, voice still breathy, "you'll be here tomorrow?"

He laughs. "I'll see you at home in a few days."

"I'm going to hold you to all of that."

"Perfect, Tess."


End file.
